


The Will to Live

by Clever_Girl



Series: My Fern Universe [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: F/M, Gen, learning how to mentor, my Fern-verse, the 61st hunger games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-27
Updated: 2012-11-27
Packaged: 2017-11-19 16:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/575085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clever_Girl/pseuds/Clever_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fern, the most recent Hunger Games winner, spends the 61st Hunger Games learning about mentoring and love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Will to Live

**Author's Note:**

> Rating for Hunger Games level violence and some cursing. Use common sense.

I shouldn’t have to mentor the first year after I win the Hunger Games. It isn’t fair. But seriously, District 9 _never_ wins, and my mentor, Teena, is _ancient_. She needs to sit down the second we get into the control area, and I swear I can hear her bones creak. I’m just really uncomfortable since everything is so fresh in my mind. Teena rattles off names and districts, and I take note of whose tributes I killed an exact year ago. “This is Fern, you saw her last year”, is all I get by way of an introduction. Thanks, Teena. We shake hands or nod quickly, but no one seems to be too interested, they get back to work, the sponsors are already starting to leave in order to attend Opening Day viewing parties. 

Teena whispers a few tips of who to avoid, who is a drunk, who will try to get me into bed, who is just plain crazy. She mentions District 3. I was able to meet this pair’s eyes, because I never even saw their tributes in the arena. The male mentor, Beetee, is speaking to a possible sponsor, one with bright green hair and a much too tight skirt. The sponsor is telling some elaborate story with lots of hand motions, but at the end she places her hand on his arm, and he jots something down on his tablet and nods. He smiles and says something, then moves on to another ridiculously dressed capitol lady. I guess he’s good at his job, but I can’t picture ever being able to schmooze sponsors like that. How does he hide his disgust? I notice his eyes keep straying to a corner of the room. If I follow his gaze, I can see his partner, a small woman with dark hair and a dreamy expression. Teena points a bony finger at her. “She’s a complete loon. Harmless, though, if you can stand her.” Teena obviously can’t. 

“Her name is…” I try to remember. “Wires?” 

“Wiress” Teena corrects. A lot of the other districts have silly names. Ours probably sound silly to them, but, really? Wiress? She doesn’t look crazy, maybe just a bit distracted. She wanders over to Beetee, gives him and the sponsor a shy smile, tucks a tiny hand into the crook of Beetee’s arm. The look he gives her is surprisingly tender, and I wonder what’s up with them. Hey, I’m a nosy person. And anything to keep my mind off the twenty three children about to die, right?  
They make a good picture, a matched pair. Both slim without looking scrawny, more like sleek or lanky. His hair is black, hers dark brown. Both pale, enough so that you can see his face stubble even this early in the morning, and you can see blue veins under the skin at her temples. She is young, maybe twenty, and he’s a bit older, maybe closer to thirty. Both good looking, if you’re into the absent minded intellectual type. I _so_ am not.

Teena is going to show me the ropes, but I am primarily in charge of Hearth, a fourteen year old with golden hair and a gap in her teeth. We could easily be sisters, the way our grins match. She’s a quick runner and not bad with a spear, so we are cautiously optimistic. Her partner, Teena’s mentee, is a mess. We don’t expect him to make it out of the bloodbath. I hate writing off an entire child like that, an entire _life_ , but it’s true. It’s better for us to focus our resources on one of them.

We settle in for the beginning of the games. I think I chew off half on my nails before the countdown even begins. Then, they’re off. The bloodbath lives up to its name, and, yup, Teena’s boy is down within seconds. It’s really depressing and I try not to think about it. There’s still a girl we might save. The careers band together pretty quickly, the usual mix of District 1, 2, 4, and any randoms who happened to score highly. I’m feeling sick to my stomach and Teena tells me to go lie down in my room. “There won’t be any action for a couple hours. Everyone’s running, making camps. Get some rest.” I can’t sleep but I guess I zone out a bit because I do feel more well-rested afterwards. 

There’s dinner in the control area for all of us, and it’s funny to watch the socializing. We’re all murderers, but we also jokingly steal food off each other’s plates, sit close together and gossip, show off pictures of our children. It’s an insane little family. I sit aside from the different groups, happy to let the chatter fade into a pleasant hum.

“C’mon, sweetheart!” I hear from behind. I whip around. That had _better_ not be aimed at me! “Just the one?” It’s Haymitch, from District 12, teasing Wiress. He gets down on his knees to beg, shoots her a flirty look.

“No”. Wiress laughs. “There are plenty of olives…”

“At the buffet.” Beetee sits down next to them, smiling, but I notice he’s moved protectively close to Wiress. “If she gives you an olive now, where will it end? What’s next, the pickles?” 

“Aw, you’re no fun”, Haymitch wrinkles his nose. “I wanted that one particular olive. It’s very special to me.” He reaches for her plate, and she slaps his hand away. While she’s distracted, Beetee grabs the olive and pops it in his mouth. Haymitch hoots and slaps Beetee on the back, Wiress glares at him in mock indignation. 

“Don’t know why I spend time with you”, she smiles. 

“I don’t know why you spend time with _him_ ”, Beetee replies. “I can’t stand the guy.” Haymitch slaps his back again. 

They’re an odd group of friends, but truthfully, none of the friendships here make a lot of sense. I wonder if I’ll end up in a group like them, joking and laughing while children kill each other. Is it sick if I hope I do? I don’t think I can stand decades more of this if I can’t escape once in a while.

The evening is pretty uneventful, and the next day, too. A few killings by the careers, one fatal fall out of a tree, some stealing of supplies and injuries from that encounter. Pretty standard stuff. Teena gives me the next morning off. “Rest”, she tells me. “You’ll need it.” It turns out I do, because there’s a lot of blood that night. The careers move in a ruthless pack. They remind me of wolves. There were wolf mutts in my Games’ arena. I’m surprised by how quickly we get to the final eight. It doesn’t take a lot of time to kill sixteen children, I guess. I’m pretty overwhelmed, glad we have a tribute in the final eight, but feeling a pit in my stomach because of the anxiety of trying to keep this kid alive. 

The family interviews are shown on the largest screen in the control area, individual cameras left to the small ones and our tablets. I can’t help but pay attention, the family members all look so darn _happy_ and I know that’s probably just capitol orders and some creative editing, but I want them all to stop smiling like idiots and realize that seven more children are going to die. Only one of these families is going to get their kid back, and even then, it won’t be their kid anymore, just some broken shell who has nightmares and flashbacks, who needs to keep a light on at all times, who travels to the capitol once a year to mentor more children who will, in turn, be killed. I realize my heart is racing and I’ve been gulping in air, so I take a walk around the room to calm down. There’s snack food on the buffet, and Wiress is there, examining a strawberry. She’s honestly staring at it like she’s never seen one before, and ok, I never did before I got reaped, but she’s probably seen hundreds by now. 

I check the screens. There’s actually an entire school class cheering and waving. They’ve rolled out a handmade banner cheering on their classmate, the remaining District 10 tribute. It disgusts me. When I turn around, Wiress is _still_ staring at that strawberry. “Hey”, I have no idea how to start up a conversation with her, but I need to talk to someone so I don’t see the happy faces of that school class. “Strawberries…they’re great, huh?” I definitely don’t have a talent for conversation starters. 

“The irrigation systems for strawberries are amazingly complex”, she says. She turns the berry the other way, and looks at me. “There’s a type of strawberry called Fern.” I wouldn’t have guessed that she’d remember my name, she seems so vague. Her big eyes are fixed on my face, and I have the weird feeling that she is sizing me up, that she can somehow see all of me, even my thoughts. It’s creepy as hell.

“That’s actually pretty cool”, I tell her. “I think I’m named after my great aunt, though.” 

Wiress, apparently satisfied with whatever judgment she’s made of me, goes back to the strawberry. Takes a delicate bite, examines the inside. “It’s interesting that the soil…” she drifts off and is silent for a while. When I don’t respond, she looks around, a bit lost. Oh. Beetee isn’t here to finish her sentence. She turns to him at their station. He’s taking notes on something from their little screen. “Beetee is taking care of…”

“Your tribute?” I suggest. She smiles halfheartedly. I guess she has more to say, but it’s too difficult. That’s a shame because she’s one of the few mentors here that don’t intimidate me. I could take advice from someone like her. Now that her stare is fixed on Beetee, she seems to have forgotten me. I move to pick up a plate, and the motion causes her to snap back. She’s like a startled animal, and it’s easy to see that I’m not the only one having trouble adjusting to regular life after the arena. She gives me a half hearted smile and nod to try to cover up, and rejoins Beetee. She says something, and he leans his head in close to hear, drapes his arm on the back of her chair. When he replies, his lips are almost brushing her cheek. I catch myself staring, and turn back to the food table. It’s just that they were really sweet. I still wonder what their deal is. Friends? Lovers? Caretaker and crazy lady? I take a few strawberries and go back to my station. 

The predictions are that this will be a busy night, tributes usually sleep through the dark, but the final eight interviews often spur some gamemaker action. 

The fact that nothing happens is even worse. We’re just _waiting_. Everyone is insanely tense. For us, there are napping shifts and more snacks brought in and chatter that becomes less friendly as the hours pass, but the screens are all dark and quiet. Most of the mentor teams start to talk strategy, I suspect mostly as a way to keep from falling asleep. The noise of so many conversations after that amount of quiet is pretty disorienting. I swear that some people are stomping or tapping pens just to make some noise. As the sky lightens and the tributes start to wake up, we are all expecting something big to happen. Definitely, their peace will break soon. 

“Beetee! Get your little ‘girlfriend’ out of here if she can’t shut up!” Brutus roars. That definitely jolts me awake. Wiress has been humming as she works, but it’s pretty easy to tune her out with all the hubbub in this room. Brutus must be really worried about his tributes, or he must really hate Wiress, or he must just enjoy being a dick for dick’s sake. Beetee presses a hand to his forehead, as if trying to ward off a headache. 

“Leave her alone, you know she’s just concentrating. It helps her focus.” Wiress is glaring at Brutus, and still humming. Brutus glares back, it like he wants a fight. Beetee sighs. “C’mon, livewire”, he takes her hand and leads her off to the smaller viewing room. She’s saying some surprisingly vulgar insults in her small voice, but it’s too quiet to tell if they’re at Brutus or Beetee. With the way Beetee is trying so hard not to laugh, I’d guess they’re aimed at Brutus. 

There’s relative peace in the arena for almost an hour, then the careers are on the move. There’s going to be bloodshed soon for sure. They hear something and grin at each other. The hunt is on. I check my screens, who’s nearby? Oh crap. Hearth is filling her canteen from the stream. Water’s pretty necessary, but so is getting some sort of cover. She’s just standing out in the open, and I want to shake her by the shoulders. There’s branches snapping, but she just arranges the canteen back in her bag. I feel utterly useless. I can’t stop anything from happening. The District 4 girl is now behind Hearth. “Turn around, turn around”, I mutter, as if I could will her to survive. Hearth does turn around, but only in time to meet the career’s eyes as the knife hits her face instead of her neck. They wrestle a bit, and the knife gets Hearth a couple more times before she finally falls. It’s a gruesome death; her face is a complete mess. Now there are seven left. I don’t even wait for the cannon to fire before I jump up. “This is _bullshit!_ ” I scream. Maybe I could have handled Hearth’s death if she hadn’t made it to the final eight, if I hadn’t seen her mother’s interview just last night. But she did and I did and all I can think about is how Hearth was an actual _person_ with feelings and a family and hopes five minutes ago and now she’s just a slab of meat. I swipe everything off my workstation and it clatters to the floor. The other mentors are avoiding my eyes, not even Brutus is gloating. They’re all more used to it I guess, and I hate them for it. I stare at the District 4 mentors, willing them to look at me. They don’t. 

“Take a breath, Fern.” Teena rebukes. She holds my shoulders, steers me to the door. “Take some time and cool down. Clear your head.” She waits as I open the door to the small viewing room. The adrenaline and anger is wearing off, and I’m suddenly shaking and crying. I don’t want them to see me like this, so I close the door behind me without looking back.

“Are you…?” 

“Okay?” 

I forgot Wiress and Beetee were in here. They’d been on a couch with their tablets, but they jumped up when I entered. I don’t want to speak, not sure I even can while I’m shaking. Wiress places a throw blanket over my shoulders, and Beetee leads me to the couch. They don’t ask any more questions; just sit in peaceful silence, Wiress holding me gently until I tire myself out crying. She gets up and hands me a glass of water.

“Sorry there’s nothing…” she tilts her head, distracted by some condensation from the glass running down her hand.

“Warm to drink”, says Beetee. I wonder if finishing her sentences all the time is exhausting. They probably have the strangest conversations. Wiress wanders over to the screens. She frowns at images flashing by, and starts to sing. It’s a haunting song, about a man whose lover drowned. Fittingly morbid for this occasion. Beetee puts his tablet down, and joins me on the couch. “Want to talk about it?”

“Not really”. I stare down at the water glass. “Tribute died. You know.” He nods. 

“It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it’s not! I didn’t rebel against the stupid capitol, and I don’t pull names out of a reaping ball and I don’t condemn innocent children to death!” I want to slap him in his dumb geek face, but then I see his smile.

“That’s the spirit”, he praises. He takes the glass from me so I won’t break it, and gives my hand a quick squeeze. “Get sad, get angry, anything, just don’t get numb.”  
It’s the first intelligent thing anyone’s said to me all day. It actually kind of calms me down. Between the friendly company and Wiress’ slow song, I feel sort of peaceful. 

“How’re your tributes?” I ask.

“Boy’s out. Our girl…she’s still in the game, but I don’t think for long. She’s given up, not trying.”

“That blows.” I tell him. He raises his eyebrows. I like that teenage slang is shocking to him, especially after the things Wiress was saying about Brutus earlier. Surrounded by death year after year, and you can still be a little bit innocent. 

“It certainly does. It _blows_.” He says the word carefully, like he’s tasting it as he speaks. 

“Isn’t there something you can do? Send her, I don’t know, a knife or something? Soup?” I have no idea what would help a girl like that, I was a fighter every second of my games, but I did see other kids who gave up. I think I killed one or two.

Beetee shrugs. “We don’t have enough sponsorship money to send much, definitely not a weapon. She actually has everything she needs, except the will to live.” He watches Wiress by the screens, she’s sort of dancing to her own song, swaying and turning in a quick circle. “It might not look it, but Wire’s hard at work, trying to think of a solution. She brainstorms her machines this way, too. It all helps her think better. Keeps her focused rather than…” He searches for the polite word, “scattered.” 

“Teena told me she was crazy”, I nod my head toward Wiress. Beetee snorts. Clearly, he doesn’t have too high of an opinion of Teena. 

“Wiress is better at machines than people. You just need to be patient with her.” Wiress is running her fingers along the metal wall, eyes closed. She’s very ethereal, the pale skin and long skirt. Her song has changed to wordless humming. It’s eerie, but I also kind of think it’s beautiful. 

The main camera shows a tribute trying to get away from the three remaining careers. I don’t think he’ll be able to climb a tree in time. I don’t remember his name or which district he’s from, and maybe that’s for the best, because then I’d know which interviews were for him, what his parents look like or how many siblings he has. If he has a sweetheart, or maybe a friend who is waiting for him to come home so she can tell him how she feels. Whoever they interviewed, whoever loves him, is probably watching this right now, hoping against hope that he’ll make it. He doesn’t. I refuse to look away. The canon fires. Beetee makes a gesture of respect, raises his fist to his mouth, his throat, then his heart. I imitate the movements. Other mentors made this gesture when their tribute died, but Beetee is grieving the death of some random kid he doesn’t know. That’s the kind of mentor I hope I can be. 

Beetee keeps his eyes downcast. If I ever knew how he won his games, I can’t remember now. The blood and gore seem to make him really uncomfortable, and it’s hard to picture him killing someone, even in self defense, even ten years ago. Wiress, on the other hand, the way she snapped at the table before makes me think she was pretty active in her games. I watch her. She’s pretty fit. I would believe that she was good with knives. Wiress chews her lower lip, she’s come up with something, definitely. You can practically see the gears turning. She looks thoughtful and determined. This must be what she looks like when she discusses her inventions, because there’s no way anyone would take the ghostlike ditz from before seriously. This might be what she looked like in the arena, right before she killed someone.

“Beetee!” He looks up. “Current…”

“That’s our girl”, he tells me.

“She has an older sister…”

“And a niece”, he finishes. “They were just interviewed for the final eight.”

Wiress nods. “Niece told that story, her nickname…”

“Rabbit.” Beetee takes his glasses off and wipes them on his shirt. He must be a fidgety thinker, because he’s also started tapping his foot.

“Something to fight for” she says, standing directly in front of him. 

They have to have some weird partner telepathy, because I have no idea what they’re talking about.

Wiress stares at her hands, deep in thought. “Not a weapon, could be cheap. A bunny.”

“An actual rabbit? For her to eat?”

Wiress gives him a look, the universal look that women give to men when they’re being stupid. I use it on my brother all the time. “Small.” She says.

Beetee scrolls through some screens on his tablet, I get up to give them some privacy, even though I don’t think they can hear or see anyone outside of their own little world. I look for the small screen marked District 3. The girl, Current, I guess, is weeping. She seems healthy enough, but they’re right. She’s given up. Not even trying to hide. All of the other tributes have a weapon, and they’re all on the move. The main camera on the largest screen shows the District 4 girl, the one who killed my tribute and made me scream enough to be kicked out of the room. I want to hate her so badly, but I can’t. She’s just trying to survive. Like I did.  
When I turn around, Beetee is speaking into a headset, and Wiress is beaming down at the tablet. “So cute”, she says. 

“It’s approved!” Beetee announces, “They’ll send it out within five minutes!” He has an infectious grin; he’s actually gotten me pretty excited for them. Wiress cheers, but even her cheering is in a soft, tentative voice. He sweeps her into his arms and gives her an intense kiss. Okay. So _that’s_ what’s up with them. I pretend to be inspecting the Games, but really, I watch them out of the corner of my eye. There aren’t many people who can understand or put up with the life of a victor. I don’t expect to find one. Sixteen years old and I’ve already given up on love, so I am pretty darn jealous. They’re gazing at each other; Wiress looks up at him as if he’s the most handsome man in Panem. It’s ridiculous, because he’s skinny and nerdy and weird, but for a moment, I can see him through her eyes. She loves him. He _obviously_ adores her.

There’s a glint of silver on the screens at the edge of my vision. The gift. “Guys, here it is!” I call them over.

On the largest screen in front of us, Current looks up from her tears to see a small silver parachute land in her lap. She opens it and finds a small stuffed rabbit, the right size for a pocket, but yeah, useless in this arena. Even if you used the cloth for fuel or something. Her eyes widen. “Oh, rabbit!” she sighs. “You’re thinking of me.” Current hugs that dumb rabbit to her heart. “I have to do it for you”, she whispers to it. I bet the capitol is just eating this up. It’s a good show. Current sets her jaw and picks up her backpack, gets moving. There’s fight in her eyes now.

I’m happy for them, but at the same time, this has gotten me thinking about my games, and all I want to do is to head back to my room. “So…my tributes are out, I don’t think I’m needed here.”

“You’re welcome to…” Wiress drifts off, staring at her hand, fingers intertwined with Beetee’s. 

“Stay.” Beetee finishes. “We all tend to hang out here. Kind of a survivors club.”

“The only other people who understand.” Wiress says sadly. 

There’s no one here closer to my age than Wiress, and several of the mentors have already started drinking pretty heavily. Nope, I don’t want to hang out. “Maybe next time.” I say. It sucks because there’s definitely a ‘next time’, and it’s in exactly a year from now and I’m guaranteed to be here. I’m practically making an appointment with them. “Hey, if we’re mentoring together next year, consider 9 for an alliance. You guys are a good team.” 

They smile and agree, make their goodbyes, and then Wiress unexpectedly hugs me. “Just stay strong”, she whispers. “Find something to live for.” I don’t even have to ask what she has to live for, because he’s right there, smiling and pushing up his nerdy, too-big glasses. 

“Thanks.”

Two days later, they have their victor. Current gets picked up by the hovercraft bloody and crying, but alive. Saved by a stupid stuffed animal.


End file.
